


Answered

by AndromedaSmith



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alien Sex, Booty Calls, Cunnilingus, F/M, Humor, Light Angst, One Night Stands, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:55:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26933962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndromedaSmith/pseuds/AndromedaSmith
Summary: Mon-El gets the call for a mission unlike any other.
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Mon-El
Comments: 19
Kudos: 52





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Needs](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26316052) by [handlewithkara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/handlewithkara/pseuds/handlewithkara). 



> This story is a retelling of handlewithkara’s “Needs,” from the other participant’s point of view. Many thanks to handlewithkara for writing the original version and asking me to beta-read it, then encouraging me to try my hand at Karamel smut in this adaptation and beta-reading the result.

Mon-El waits for Kara on the balcony, standing in the same spot where he last saw her. He’s so focused on holding back the tide of memories that he only registers the click of her heels on the floor after she’s already beside him. 

The voice he still hears, sometimes, in his dreams: “Thank you for coming.”

He turns to look at her.

_New suit. Nice._ His first, inane, thought. The second thought is that she is just as beautiful as ever, but she seems weary, somehow. Her usual smile is absent and she looks … nervous? _What’s going on?_ He covers the turmoil inside his head by falling back into his professional Legionnaire persona. _Just another mission._

His voice still comes out huskier than he’d like.

“Yes, Winn told me, but he couldn’t tell me what it was about. I assume this is an emergency?”

“Not exactly?” she replies. Now she _really_ looks nervous.

Kara steps back from her position next to him at the parapet. She looks him up and down, fidgeting with a lock of her hair and avoiding his eyes.

“Um, you look good, you, you’ve been working out,” she blurts out. 

It isn’t quite the last thing he’d expected to hear from her. But it has to be close. He tries to keep the confusion off his face and think of something sensible to say. _Compliment her on the new haircut?_

“Thank you?”

“Yeah, uhm. Things, they’ve just been really exhausting lately. I was wondering whether you might be … free to…” Kara coughs. 

He looks carefully at her. Neck and ears flushed, pupils dilated… oh. Oh. _Oh._ His own eyes widen as he realizes what she’s asking. A surge of desire rises in him, warring with incredulity. She called him here from a thousand years away for this? _Kara_ called him here? Again he has to think of something sensible to say.

“I’m, I’m really flattered,” he stutters. 

“Um, yes,” she stammers back. 

She is as beautiful as ever and her embarrassment is both sexy and adorable. He can’t help it. He loses the fight to keep a straight face and the corners of his mouth begin to lift at the ridiculousness of the situation. A Kryptonian making a booty call to a Daxamite. He flicks his eyes up to the sky to check that the universe isn’t ending, or something.

“Stop smiling!” she yells.

This was not the mission he was expecting. But he can do this. He takes a shallow breath, reins it in. He’s had to control his emotions under worse circumstances.

“I’m not smiling.”

“Yes, you are!” She’s not buying it and her embarrassment is shading into anger. Centuries apart and he still knows what she’s feeling, like no one he’s known before or since.

She turns and walks away. 

_She asked him to come here, just to jerk him around?_ But refusing her anything has never been easy. And he doesn’t really want to anyway: pass on a chance to be with her, to hold her and please her and bring her joy, even if it’s just one more time? Not likely. He can be annoyed with her simultaneously, though.

He follows her down the corridor. “Kara, please!”

She stops and turns to him, anger and embarrassment and arousal mixed in her face.

“I just want to …” 

He catches her eyes, his face carefully neutral.

“My place? Fifteen minutes? We leave separately?”

He nods and chokes out, “fifteen minutes.”

“Good. See you there.”

He turns and walks away so she can’t beat him to it. He’s not sure he could stifle the groan he’d let out at the sight of her swinging hips.

* * *

  
  


Tabloids and timelines being what they are, it’s best if he’s not seen in public here. Mon-El waits until the last possible moment to leave the DEO and then almost gets lost: the skies of her National City are different from his and it takes him a few moments to get his bearings. He finds the right building, sees the curtain fluttering through the open window, and slips inside, cape drifting down behind him.

Kara is waiting for him, hands on hips, her expression somewhere between a scowl and a grimace. She is projecting the air of someone not in the mood to be teased or trifled with.

“Right on time.” 

She may not be in the mood to be teased, but surely he can at least be friendly? “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“If you start grinning again, this whole deal is off,” she threatens. 

He calls on all the years of Legion diplomacy, never mind Daxamite royal court intrigue, to help him keep a straight face. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

“Good.” 

She approaches him, circling around him, reaching out a hand to trace across his chest. He shivers and leans down toward her.

“No, no kissing,” Kara mumbles. “On the mouth,” she adds.

_So that’s the game, is it?_ He nods to show his understanding. _Two can play at this._

Running his hand up her arm, he grasps the back of her neck and smothers his grin in a kiss to her forehead. She stops moving but the surprise is on him: the first taste of her skin nearly makes his knees give way. The memories hit full force and he is back here a decade ago, nervous and sweating and kissing her for the second time as she threads her hands through his hair.

She flinches at the unfamiliar scratch of his beard on her face and that breaks the spell. He pulls back just slightly and presses another kiss to her temple, her cheek, trailing his lips down her neck to her collarbone. His knees are still a little shaky.

_Control_. He needs to control his responses, give her what she wants, make this last. Of course he can do this. He’s a Daxamite. His people might not have invented recreational sex but they had a pretty good claim to perfecting it.

“I’m good with that.”

She pulls away from him and leads the way into her bedroom.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The previous chapter didn’t really need the Explicit rating but this one does. Um, right about now. If that’s not your thing, best to skip to the last scene in Chapter 3.

He unclasps his cape and drapes it over the chair, next to hers. A sight that he’d imagined for a long time, completely wiped from his brain by the astonishing view of her perfect ass in the new suit.

She finishes peeling the suit off. Her ass out of it is pretty amazing too. She turns to face him as she pulls down her panties. Her body is everything he remembers: those gorgeous breasts, the sweet curves of her hips, the luminous skin over toned muscle. That fists-on-hips pose is so much better when she’s naked, her knuckles pointing towards the sexy indents of her abs. His cock swells and he can feel his blood heating as it pounds in his ears. 

He’s so spellbound by the sight of her that it slows down his own disrobing. He finishes and stands before her. He tries to catch her gaze but she’s looking at his chest. At her necklace.

“Look,” she says, diffidently, “Can, um, can you take it off? Just, you know, during.” 

Apprehension flashes through him. He hasn’t taken it off since he was last here, when he briefly thought he was going to stay. But for her ( _who else_?) of course he will. “Yeah, no problem.” 

It still hurts to pull the chain over his head. He places it on her nightstand. “Better?”

She hums her assent and steps closer to him, reaching out to touch his shoulders lightly. She lifts her chin and he can see her face harden as she reminds herself of the “no kissing” rule. He can’t stop the grin from popping up on his face; he turns his head away to get his equilibrium back.

She runs a single index finger down his chest to his belly, stopping just above the level of his hips. He swallows a moan at her touch. Deep breath. _Control_.

Abruptly, she steps back and moves to the bed. Lying on her side and spreading her body out, that perfect backside beckoning as she wiggles her hips. Her hair fans out behind her and she bites her lip as she rolls her face down into the pillow.

How best to pleasure her? He sits down behind her and gently strokes the smooth, perfect canvas of her back. She shivers at his touch. 

“Tell me what you want, Kara.”

She mumbles into the pillow. Embarrassed? Angry? Is she just messing with him again? She’s not getting away with this.

He taps her shoulder for attention.

“I can’t hear you,” he whispers into her ear, “And I can’t give you what you want, if you won’t tell me.”

She turns her head slightly. “Just, you know, do it.” Her eyes squeeze shut and he sees, but doesn’t hear, her say it: “Fuck me.”

_No need to say_ that _twice._

His cock is hard as granite. It bounces with his heartbeat as he eases down behind her, tracing her spine with a finger and then his lips. His other hand squeezes one ass cheek as his finger and lips trace down the thigh and then the calf of her top leg. She whines her impatience. He ignores her entreaties and caresses her foot, nipping her pinky toe with his teeth and sliding his tongue down the sole. The scent of her arousal reaches him and he shudders. He slides one hand up to rest on her hip, tracing the bone with his thumb.

She whispers, but he can’t quite make out the words. It doesn’t matter. He has the sounds of her body: the intake of her breath, the little moans in her throat, the tiny juicy noises of her sex. He slides his body up her back, wrapping himself around her as if he were her cape. Her skin scorches his as his cock presses between her thighs, teasing her entrance. He sucks on her neck and nibbles on her earlobe and she writhes beneath him. 

He’s pretty sure she’s ready; he can feel her pussy juices seeping onto his cock. Her voice doesn’t leave much doubt: “Hurry!” she says from between clenched teeth. 

He can’t hold back another quick grin, which disappears quickly when she rocks her ass back into him and he just about comes on the spot. Another deep breath, a little more ragged than he’d like. He strokes the side of her breast and drags his hand down to her hip. 

“You good?”

Her hands fist in the sheet. “Yessssss!” 

He grasps her hips, adjusts the angle of her pelvis slightly. One snap of his hips and his throbbing cock plunges into her wet heat like coming home. They both gasp as he fills her. He had forgotten — _how had he forgotten_? — how her super-strength made her pussy the tightest, most incredible he had ever felt. They fit so perfectly together, his pulsing shaft in her moist cleft, that it’s hard to remember that he was ever with anyone else. She exhorts him to move. Making this last isn’t going to be easy.

As he slides out of her and back in, she growls with pleasure, moaning and squirming beneath him. Her pussy spasms around him and his balls tighten. He pulls back and thrusts into her again, pressing his chest to her back, leaning down to lick her earlobe and her neck. 

His hips twitch in a series of small pulses. Her cunt grips at his cock each time he pulls back. She is so strong and so luscious and so searing around him and he just wants to stay here, soak in this feeling. But she undulates her hips against the bed and then back against him and it’s clear that her need won’t be denied — she wants it hard and she wants it _now_. He levers his torso up and begins to drive into her, gripping one shoulder and then both.

The slide of skin on skin, of his body into hers, is exhilarating and now he just wants to keep moving against her, feel the back-and-forth cadence. But her body starts to peak, her moans rising in pitch and her breathing becoming ragged. She falls over the edge and her pussy clutches him so hard that he follows. At his climax, he can’t stop his eyes from squeezing shut, even though there’s nothing he wants more than to take in her perfect form shuddering beneath him. 

Yes, there is. He wants to see _her_ eyes.

* * *

  
  


_Mission … accomplished?_

They lie on their backs next to each other as their breathing slows. Kara’s shoulders and neck no longer hold their previous tension, but Mon-El can feel his own start to rise. She is studiously avoiding looking at him and it is making him nervous. He has to get out of her non-sight for a few minutes. Finally, he comes up with a reason to temporarily escape.

“Can I use your shower?”

“Sure.”

Mon-El’s feet know the way from her bed to her bathroom without his brain thinking much about it. He turns on the shower, jiggling the faucet handle in the manner required to ensure it doesn’t drip and wondering why Kara never got around to getting it fixed. He remembers the one time when, still getting control of his strength, he pulled it off completely and nearly flooded the bathroom. That had almost been worse than the toilet seat incident. 

Steam starts to fill the small room. He retrieves an extra towel from the middle drawer and steps under the spray. He reaches for her soap.

He and Kara might have been born under a different sun, but for them as for humans, scent is one of the strongest memory triggers. The lather hits his skin and once again it’s a decade ago and they are in this shower together. She is simultaneously urging him to hurry up — they’re expected at Alex’s in ten minutes! — and giggling at his inability to keep his hands off her irresistible body. 

So many years. Fewer for her, and those years might yet be short against their eventual long lives under this yellow Sun. Even if he had learned to live with twice losing her, that dull ache persists. A strangled sound escapes his throat. He closes his eyes and a tear squeezes out, mixing with the shower water cascading down his face.

The door opens and Kara slips into the bathroom, breaking his reverie. She wastes little time before quickly joining him in the shower. She presses herself against his back; her hands glide up his chest to his neck, pulling his lips down to hers.

_So much for no kissing_.

Mon-El doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry but he can’t do either one with Kara’s tongue halfway down his throat. So he turns to her and concentrates on kissing her back, pouring in every bit of the affection that he couldn’t exactly express while fucking her into the mattress. 

Her hand travels back down his neck and it seems like she’s searching for something. He has a few new scars, it’s true, but she’s looking in the wrong place for those. She whispers in his ear.

“Put it back on.” The sexiest tone he has ever heard in her voice. “You look naked without it.” He can’t help but laugh, although he decides that it’s probably unwise to point out that he _is_ naked. As is she, gloriously so.

Experience has taught him that super-speed and wet bathroom floors don’t mix well. Even at human speeds, he makes short work of the trip to the bedroom and back, not wanting to miss a second of the marvellous sight of Kara’s wet, naked body. 

Her hands slide down his back and squeeze his ass; his hands move up from her waist to fondle her breasts. She reaches one hand around to lazily stroke his cock. His thumbs brush her nipples.

Kara’s grip on his dick is firm, just this side of painful. He moans into her mouth and she reaches down to tickle his balls as they break the kiss to gasp for air. She pushes her body against his, trapping his hardening steel and her soft breasts between them. His arms slide around her shoulders and she pulls him into another kiss. 

He holds her tight, marvelling at the feel of her wet skin on his, her soft body in his arms. A soft body that can nevertheless match his strength, that he can’t hurt, with which he doesn’t have to hold back. She is moaning and sliding against him and before he has really even thought about it, he lifts her up and impales her on his now rock-hard dick. They lean back from the kiss and he can see her trying to keep a straight face. 

He backs her up against the wall and she wraps one arm around his shoulder and then his back. Her legs wrap around his waist.

It had taken them quite a while to master, but eventually shower sex had become one of their favorites. Mon-El had loved seeing the formerly oh-so-proper Kryptonian lose herself, the warm water streaming through her hair and across her slippery skin. Kara had relished being lifted and held, for once not having to be the strong one.

He tightens his grip on her ass and she squeezes his waist harder with her legs. This time he dives in to kiss her. She doesn’t turn away, only fists her hands in his hair to pull him closer. She pushes her hips into his, seeking the friction against her clit that she needs to come. He can tell she wants more. He could stop, turn her around, stroke her just so, have her coming all over his hand in moments — but he doesn’t want to stop, doesn’t want to leave her hot, tight cunt for a second.

_So much for control._

She growls her frustration as he holds her butt tight and continues to hammer into her. His tongue tangles with hers as he re-learns the shape of her mouth, the feel of her lips between his. He shifts his hold and she re-adjusts, now purring her pleasure as the new angle of his entry provides the stimulation she needs. 

Mon-El thrusts and Kara moans, he squeezes and she claws, he fucks her and she fucks him right back. He doesn’t remember her ever being this noisy or vigorous and it demolishes his determination to prolong his pleasure and hers.

He explodes into her, groaning as he feels the exquisite tightness capture his balls and travel up his spurting cock. She feels him filling her channel and follows him over the edge, screaming her own satisfaction into his mouth. He kisses her almost roughly as they both come down, tongue thrusting into her mouth.

Their mouths separate and they slowly open their eyes. He winks. This time she’s the one suppressing the grin. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wherein my “missing scene” obsession hits. Don’t worry, we’re not done with the smut.

The hot water has pretty much run out so the washing is brief: they may be impervious to cold but that doesn’t make a lukewarm shower all that fun. Kara dries herself off with a super-speed spin that makes him grin; Mon-El sticks with the old-fashioned towel method.

As he leaves the bathroom she is stripping the sheets from the bed. Wordlessly he steps around to the other side, grabs the side of the new fitted sheet as she shakes it out, and tucks it around the mattress. Such a small thing that they do in sync without even thinking; of course she was the one who had taught him how to make a bed in the first place.

As if picking up on his thought, Kara comments, “Not much bed-making in the thirty-first century, I’d guess.”

“Nope,” he scratches his jaw.

“Can’t believe you still know how.”

“I guess it’s like riding a bike. Which I don’t know how to do, actually. You never taught me that.” Mon-El is joking, trying to be friendly, but Kara is having none of it.

“We had other things to do,” she says, flatly.

Kara slides under the covers while staring at the wall just past his left shoulder. He expects her to dismiss him, to turn away, but when she doesn’t he takes it as an invitation to stay, just a little longer. He slips into her bed, facing her.

He’s done what she asked him to, answered her body’s needs. And his, if he’s being honest. But those are not the only needs, for either of them. Neither their history nor his Daxam experience exactly provide a useful guide for what comes next.

“What do we do now?” he asks, softly.

She doesn’t answer him. He can see the battle of emotions in her face and he just wants to soothe her soul, ease her heart as best he can. His palm cups her cheek as he slides his long fingers back into her hair, leaning in toward her.

She returns the touch, tracing his eyebrows, his jaw, his lips with a fingertip. He can feel her relax as she sheds the burden of controlling the strength in her tiny, delicate hands. He closes the distance between them and their bodies melt together, lips fusing, breath mingling, skin sticking. He loses himself in her, the feel of her breasts pressed against his chest, her legs tangling with his.

Her breath hitches and her back muscles start to tense. _She must be thinking too much._ Breaking the lip lock he begins to kiss his way down her neck, stopping to nuzzle the top of her shoulder on the way to nibbling and licking her collarbone. She purrs and he continues the journey, his hand cupping a perfect breast, lips suckling its rosy nipple. 

His beard tickles her as he kisses his way down her belly; she squirms beneath him and fists her hand in his hair. His hips rock into the bed, rubbing his rapidly-swelling cock on the taut sheet. He trails his tongue along her hipbone and down toward the crease of her thighs. She lifts her hips and he slides his nose across her mound, inhaling the scent of her pussy and bringing his tongue to the top of her folds. She sighs and then takes a sharp breath.

“Mon, Mon-El?”

It’s a cliche that wouldn’t exactly resonate on the planet of his birth (or hers, for that matter), but hearing his name from her lips really is like music. He lets out a small sigh and looks up at her. She looks nervous again. 

“Don’t, don’t be too sweet? Please?” 

Her cheeks redden as he gives her his undivided attention, trying to understand her request.

“Just, just be, you know, hot.” 

_Ah_. That, he can do. He hopes.

He rubs her mons with his chin and slowly, torturously, glides his face back up her body.

Kara moans as he licks one breast and rolls the nipple of the other between his thumb and index finger. His mouth replaces his fingers, teeth tugging gently as he coaxes it to an even harder peak. His fingers slide down through her blonde thatch to tease her inner thighs, then her outer lips, and finally her clit. He pulls his mouth from her breast to capture her lips with his, pouring his desire into her with his hot breath. His fingers continue to stroke her sex, the tip of his thumb probing her entrance. She arches her back and pushes his head away from her face and down, making it clear where his mouth needs to go.

He smirks and follows her directions, making the trip back down her body more expeditiously. Placing a hand on each of her creamy thighs, he slowly spreads them apart, the better to bury his face in her pussy. Her labia are puffy and engorged and as perfect as he remembers, the wisps of blonde hair soaked with juices that he eagerly laps. Her sweet-salty taste fills his mouth and he moans along with her as his tongue flicks her clit. She grinds her pelvis into his face and they both shudder.

He slides down a little further, probing her entrance with his tongue while reaching up with his left hand to palm and squeeze her right breast. The fingers of her left hand snake into his hair, urging him to go deeper even as she arches her back to fill his hand with her soft mound. He tongue-fucks her relentlessly, bumping her clit with his nose. She shrieks and her hips buck harder. 

Her desire is burning a hole in him; she is right on the edge and he wants to pull her back, make this last longer. He slows his movements, eliciting a whine from her, then shifts slightly. He blows air across her clit, then fastens his lips around it, not sucking, just covering. Two fingers replace his tongue in her pussy, not thrusting or rubbing, just holding still. Her inner walls ripple around his fingers and her thigh nudges his cheek. He takes the hint and resumes driving her toward orgasm, sucking on her clit, curling his fingers to tap on that spot inside her, bracing himself to meet the thrusts of her hips.

Finally her belly and legs tighten and her breath stops. He feels her convulse around his fingers, tastes her cream. Moving his hand from her breast to her waist, he holds her as she shudders and screams through her climax. The tension ebbs from her body and her hold on his hair slackens. He fights the urge to reach up and check that she didn’t pull any out.

Mon-El slides out from between Kara’s thighs, wiping his face on the sheet. She rolls onto her side with a contented sigh and he wraps himself around her, spooning. His cock is steel and his balls ache, but he will lie here like this with her until the stars die and the Sun goes cold if that’s what she wants. In this moment, he knows that his heart is still hers. If he can only share this small piece of her, then … that’s enough.

_Mission accomplished._

* * *

Kara is soft and warm nestled next to him, her breathing slow and even. Mon-El thinks she must be asleep. Should he just leave her be, slip away without the inevitable awkward goodbye? They might be experts at it but he’d just as soon not develop that skill any further. 

He sighs deeply, pulling her more tightly to him for one last embrace. Her body against his is steel under velvet, like nothing else he’s ever felt or ever will. How can he just walk away, their business still unfinished? Because it’s what she wants, it seems. Kara asked him to help her out, not to stay. She’s over him. And besides… duties.

She stirs and grasps his hand where it rests against her belly. She shifts her legs and moves his hand to her breast; the nipple tightens against his palm. Her hips wriggle and his cock throbs against her backside. She keeps undulating her hips while pushing herself up along his body. She reaches back to stroke him and he gasps as his hips jerk involuntarily. Her gentle touch on his throbbing member is all it takes to bring him back to full, aching need.

Kara rolls onto her side and lifts her top leg, tugging on his cock. He takes the hint and pushes up onto his knees to help himself slide into her. Her warm core welcomes his cock, walls hugging him tight. He caresses her breast as he slowly glides in and out. She reaches up to trace her fingers across his chest. Sweat slicks their skin, lubricating the gradual increase in the tempo of his thrusts. His hand moves from her breast to her pussy, strumming her clit as he fills her core. He leans in to kiss her, murmurs in nonsensical sounds of pleasure in her ear. She hums her agreement.

The climax, when it comes, is more release than explosion. His muscles seize as he empties himself into her rippling pussy; she reaches an arm up to support him. Looking into her eyes, he sees a brief flash of joy and … something he can’t quite place. He tries to express his own feelings in the gaze: relief, contentment, longing.

Spent, but in the best possible way, he rolls onto his back. She does the same, her temple resting against the outside of his bicep. He can see the tiniest of contented smiles on her lips. 

This time, he’s the one who falls asleep.

* * *

The capes are back on their shoulders. The sight of Kara’s curves in the suit doesn’t quite make up for his inability to meet her eyes. (He can’t see that she is having the same problem.)

She wrings her hands and scuffs her feet. “I had a really nice time.” _Impossible not to remember the first time she said that to him_. “Thank you for coming by and, um, helping me out.”

Mon-El gulps. “Sure.”

“Much appreciated.”

“Any time.” Keeping the straight face is easier now. 

Her hands rest on his shoulders. His arms stay by his sides; he’s afraid that if he reaches out, draws her in, he won’t be able to let her go. He’s given her his best, eased her tension and pleased her body, but that doesn’t feel like enough. Apparently he’s not as much of a Daxamite as he thought, any more. He had thought he could read her, thought he knew that she was deceiving herself about what she really wanted from him. Now the moment has come and he’s not so sure. He tries to catch her eyes but she’s still avoiding his.

Kara may not know what she wants, but in this moment Mon-El knows his own desires so he steels his nerves and asks. “I’d really like to kiss you,” he says, voice sounding unfamiliar to his own ears. 

She seems not to have heard him at first. “Um, give Winn my best?”

“I will.” His voice almost breaks. _So that’s how it is._

But then she leans in. As his lips meld with hers and he runs his tongue along her teeth, he tries to interrogate her feelings through her grip on his shoulders, the little sounds she makes in her throat. This doesn’t feel like that kiss in the rainy field ( _but how can it, they are both such different people now_ ), it doesn’t feel like goodbye. It feels like “until next time.” He pours his soul into the kiss, trying to show her what she means to him. His hands in her hair, down her back, on her perfect ass.

She pulls away from his mouth, her body still within the circle of his arms.

“We good?” Kara asks.

“Yeah.” Mon-El lets her go. “We’re good.” 

Small smiles on both their faces. He squeezes her hand and turns away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friends, it’s been a long and difficult few months for many. I hope this piece let you escape for a few moments and maybe even made you smile a little. Be well.


End file.
